Where is home? What makes it so? Is it the company? Are widows then homeless? Is it the place? Are sojourners then aliens forever? Is it our own decision? Are orphans then mistaken? Perhaps it is merely the place you lay your head? What then of prisoners?

You don't have answers to these questions, at least not perfect ones, but this is home, for now. It's apparently yours, at any rate, and the bed is comfortable.